It’s a (l)ice day, really!
A close encounter of the itchy-and-scratchy kind offers a surprisingly intimate time for a mother and child.
IT’S nice when pivotal moments in your life arrive on auspicious days. Losing teeth on the eve of the New Year, learning to walk over Christmas, surviving illness on holiday and actually managing to have a better time than if you were healthy.
All these kinds of “raising kids” moments become so very special when they happen in conjunction with something else. Perhaps it just makes remembering them easier! (Note to all parents: You are not alone in forgetting what is seemingly so important, due to lack of sleep, etc.)
In fact, when something milestone-like happens on special days or during special times, it’s even more cause for celebration.
This was exactly the “glass half full” cavalier attitude I embraced on the Friday before Chinese New Year. The holiday was about to begin and I had raced to do as much work as I could, so that I was able to truly devote myself to some quality “us” time over the break.
I arrived at school about oneish on the Friday to pick up the Little Man. The massive smile on his face was all I needed to fully let go of all my week’s stress and crack my face open into a grin to match his.
I jumped out of the car to open the back door and was met by his teacher who was also smiling, albeit a little strangely.
We greeted each other with “gong xi fa cai”, “enjoy the break”, “you look like you deserve it” and so on. All the things one says at times like these. With the pleasantries over, she stepped a little closer and said the words that would mark this moment, this Year of the Water Snake, as the time that my son would need me to embrace my inner primate.
She said: “Your son has been scratching his head a lot today.” I said: “Oh?” She said: “Yes, well, a few other children have been scratching their heads this week too.” I said: “Really?” At this point, you can see that I am not understanding the nuances of teacher-parent code.
She said: “Well, ahem, some children in his class have lice.” I said: “Sorry? What?” She said: “Lice, you had better go home and check his head.”
At this point, I was still grinning like a Cheshire cat and so was the Little Man. We both looked at each other, climbed into the car and started laughing.
So, the dreaded kutu had arrived and our afternoon and weekend was about to become a very intimate “monkey-picking-nits” out of the hair affair. Something that would prove to be extremely hilarious and also an awesome bonding experience.
For some strange reason it was all very exciting and comical. I think that my nerves about the whole thing lent a lovely sense of frivolity over us. From our first stop to celebrate with Japanese food to the pharmacy to buy special combs and back home again for the whole de-licing process, we were on a high.
On the drive back, I had enough time to think about how I was going to tackle this problem. The ready-made poison lotions were not on the agenda. There was no way I was going to pour chemicals onto his head, nor mine.
So I called my mum who suggested crushed camphor balls mixed into oil. That seemed a little less toxic until I saw the mothballs on offer at the supermarket with their sparkly crystalline texture and the different colours available. It was a little confusing as I seem to remember mothballs looking entirely different.
Not trusting what appeared to be fake imposters for camphor, I decided we were going to do it the old-fashioned way:
> Coconut oil as an antibacterial and fungal component > Tea tree oil as an antiseptic > Kutu comb > Fingernails for crushing the bugs and their offspring eggs
> Bowl of boiling water to drown the resilient buggers in
We spent the best Friday afternoon outside in the fresh air like a pair of monyet. Giggling and counting crawlers and massacring egglettes. That night we both went to sleep with our heads fully slathered down to every single shaft of hair with the oil mixture. Just to make sure the “visitors” were duly smothered and no offspring survived in their cocoons.
My father delighted in remonikering the Little Man as Kutu Boy, a name which has stuck thus far. My grandmother also had fun trawling through her great-grandson’s head, checking to see if I had missed any of the blighters. It seemed that everyone was tickled pink by it all.
Thank goodness the days of forced suspension on children found with head lice are a longgone archaic practice. From what I have found on the Web, kids go for years in the school system with creepy-crawlies that never ever fully die out. At least we weren’t treated like pariahs.
It amazes me the twisted delights to be found as a parent. Whilst a gastro-bug is nothing to be enjoyed, with the sight of your child so wretched and green, the first ever discovery of scalpsucking vermin almost felt David Attenborough-ish to us.
Sitting for hours in such close proximity to your child, your fingers dancing over minute patches of hair shafts, eagerly probing for anomalies whilst talking about everything under the sun, just the two of you, together, was bliss.
I would have to say a massive thanks to the kutu tribe that invaded the Little Man’s tresses, because they kick-started one of the best “us” moments to be had thus far, in this New Year of the Water Snake.
Asha Gill put her globetrotting life on hold to focus on the little man in her life and gain a singular perspective on the world. You can tune in to Asha’s show
on Capital FM 88.9, Mondays to Fridays, 10am-1pm. She’s always looking for stories to tell and ideas to share, so send her an e-mail at star2@thestar.com.my.